Someday
by KeatsLove
Summary: Lena goes to London on a summer art class trip, hoping to work out her feelings towards Kostos but plans change when she unexpectedly runs into Carmen's stepbrother Paul.
1. Chapter 1

Someday

PART I

The pants can't help me with this one. Even if we still had them, I'd be forced to do this on my own or forever wonder if it was my courage or the pants' magic that brought me to this time, place, and conclusion. Carmen likes to pretend the pants just moved on to help out some other group of girls, but I think the sea swallowed them up for good. Either way, they served us well and now we have to serve ourselves. We can't hide behind denim, zippers, and buttons forever. That's what the pants taught us. We're strong enough to stand alone.

"No, Mom, I'll be fine," I say into the cell phone as it rings for what seems the thousandth time with more last minute worrying from Mom. "No, I didn't pack sweaters. It's only ten days. It's the middle of July. London's gotta be as warm as it is here." I listen as she rattles on about watching the news and the El Nino Affect and how it's supposed to rain in England all the time like in Seattle. "Mom, really, I'll be fine. Yes. Thanks for your concern. I'll be okay. If not, I can buy sweaters. Yes. I brought a jacket. I love you too. Okay. Bye." One thing about being away at college is that it has taught me to be very self reliant. At times it seems almost a bother to deal with 'family things.'

I've packed light. Mostly sun dresses, skirts, shorts, and some jeans for this Art Excursion through London. The most important (and bulky) things are my art supplies. We're supposed to roam around London and paint, draw, sketch to our heart's content. Not a bad way to earn summer credit. We're not even on a rigorous schedule or required to stay in packs which I like. I've become a loner. I suppose I always have been one.

My cell phone goes off. This time it's Tibby.

"Good. It's you," I say after hitting the green talk button. "I thought it might be Effie calling to remind me of something for Mom who didn't want to seem like she's smothering by calling herself."

I can almost feel Tibby bristle at the mention of my sister. She still hasn't quite forgiven her for the brief foray into Dating Brian even though it's been a full year.

"Um, yeah, so I was elected to call with the big send off," Tib says. "Carma and Bee with their busy, busy lives have no time to pick up the phone so the duty falls to me." She laughs and I imagine her running a hand through her newly dyed green and purple hair. Not that green and purple really go together but they're Brian's favorite colors so she did it in honor of their recent anniversary.

"Thanks," I say. "I'll miss you guys."

"We'll have our annual ritual when you get back," Tib says. "I've threatened Carma and Bee with bodily harm if they skip out."

"At least it's one tradition we can keep alive," I say, looking up when I hear the stewardess call my row for boarding. "Hey, Tib, I'm so sorry but I have to go. I promise to find a cyber cafe to email you from. Good luck on your film project."

"Do you think you'll look up Kostos?" she asks suddenly, as if the other girls put her up to it because Tibby is not the sort to ask something like that.

_Yes_ my mind says, but my mouth answers "Maybe."


	2. Chapter 2

PART II

When I first saw the London Excursion poster at school, I told myself I wasn't signing up because I knew Kostos lived there but because it would help my work to see new things. My hand shook as I signed _Lena Kaligaris_. I told myself a bunch of lies that day – namely that I was doing this for "art" instead of for "him."

On the plane, as we settle in and buckle up, I sit next to Sally Santas from 2-D Artistic Rendering and, thankfully, she understands that I don't want to talk. When they are allowed, I pop the ear buds for my I-Pod in and let the music drown out everything. Even my thoughts of Kostos.

"Wake up, Lena, we have to fill out these little cards," Sally says, shaking me awake. _When did I fall asleep?_

She hands me one of those 'what is the purpose of your visit' cards and I fill it out, feeling as if I'm still part way in a sleepy haze. "School trip" is my official reason for entering the country since "Looking up long lost boyfriend who may or may not have moved on with his life" was too long to fit in the space provided.

"This is going to be _so_ exciting!" Sally enthuses, grinning happily over at me. "Don't you think so, Lena? A whole ten days to bum around and build our portfolio."

"Very exciting," I agree, though my voice sounds a little flat even to my own ears. I yawn and stretch, hoping it is just sleep and not apathy that makes me feel this way. "I want to see Tower Bridge and Parliament and Westminster Abbey. They let you do etchings of the tomb markers there. My friend Carmen will kill me if I don't get some good ones from Poet's Corner." There. That sounds more natural.

Sally's eyes are bright and blue and remind me of Bee's when she's totally excited over something. "And really no chaperon," Sally says. "That's the best part. It's so cool to be treated like an adult instead of a baby on a school trip. I'd just die if they made us hold hands and use the buddy system."

"Artists. Solitary creatures," I say, standing since we're allowed now, and collecting my carry on bag. "Do you know hotel room assignments?"

"Um. Mr. B has them," she says. "He's turning us loose once he leads us safely to the hotel and passes out local maps. Hey, have you ever used the Underground before? I'm a little nervous about it."

"I bet it's easy enough to figure out," I say. "Maps and stuff."

"Yeah, I'm sure you're right," she says, still looking uncomfortable. "Maybe I'll just take the bus places so I'll get to see the scenery."

"A good plan," I agree, more out of respect for casual conversation than any particular enjoyment of this topic. "I want to catch the train down to Stonehenge when I can."

"Ooh! Maybe we can go down together."

"Maybe," I say noncommittally, smiling thinly as she lets me slip past her into the aisle since I got the window seat. "We'll see how things go."

"Okay."

Once we deplane, Mr. B gathers us around like a pack of ducklings. "Okay, people, listen up, here's the plan! We go to the hotel as a group, you settle your stuff in your rooms, and then you're on your own. Lights out at 10 pm. I will personally be checking each and every bed so you better be in them."

Since there were no questions or complaints, we pile into a 15 seater passenger van and are on our way.

I wonder how difficult it will be to find Kostos's school?


	3. Chapter 3

PART III

Why did I expect it to just be on a map? As if Kostos's business school is a big tourist attraction. My wanderings already brought me past Westminster Abbey, the Parliament building, and I was now standing outside of the Tower of London. Well, we _were_ here for ten days. I don't have to find him the very first day, do I? It's best to put something in my portfolio or Mr. B will think I'm a total slacker. And if there's one thing I am known for besides this stupid Face That Launched A Thousand Ships, it's my work ethic.

"Lena? Um. Lena Kaligaris?"

I swivel in a semi-circle at the sound of my name. A vaguely familiar looking blond boy is standing a foot or so away. He's wearing shorts, a Marquette t-shirt, sunglasses, and Velcro on sandals that are more durable than flip flops. His hair brushes his shoulders and curls a little bit at the ends.

"Yes?" I say, voice rising at the end so it sounds like a question.

"I – I thought it was you," he says. "Wow. What a coincidence."

"I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

He takes off his sunglasses and, even from this difference, I can tell his eyes are a very bright blue. "Carmen's stepbrother."

I smile, relieved, when a memory skims through my mind. "Oh, yes. Your hair is longer than the last time I saw you. Carl, was it?"

Disappointment flashes across his face and I know I've made a mistake. "No. Paul."

"Oh. Right. Sorry. Paul." I brush my freshly cut bangs away from my face. "Paul. I won't forget twice."

"What are you doing here?" he asks, taking a step closer.

I motion at my art supplies. "School trip."

"Me too."

"What are you studying?"

"History."

I nod, remembering Carma calling Paul He-Of-Few-Words but he actually initiated the conversation. "Do you want to tour the Tower with me?" I ask. "I'll buy you a cold drink after. I'd say 'coffee' but I doubt either of us want something hot right now."

"Sure," Paul agrees, picking up the backpack he'd placed on the ground near his feet.

"It's historic," I say. "That's what you're here for, right? History?"

He nods, perching the sunglasses back on his nose and seeming to slip back into He-Of-Few-Words mode.

We buy tickets at the booth near the moat, and join the next tour group.

Paul and I walk in silence as we listen to the guide recount the Tower's long and often tragic past. I'm glad Paul isn't the type of person who feels the need to fill every little silence with noise. It's comfortable being beside him. I like it.

"I think I remember a cafe around the corner," I say as we make a brief stop in the gift shop.

"Sounds fine," he says, picking out some postcards and getting in line.

I toy with a display of magnets while I wait, debating whether to buy some for The Septembers. No. They deserve more personalized presents than magnets. Every tourist trap has magnets.

"Ready?" I ask when Paul is again beside me, adjusting his backpack after sticking the postcards inside.

"Lead the way," he says.


	4. Chapter 4

PART IV

"I love people watching," I say from our outside cafe table. "Maybe it's the Artist Thing, but I'm always observing."

"I do that too," Paul says. He smiles unexpectedly. "Maybe it's the Not Speaking Thing."

"You're talking now," I say. "And I'm a near stranger."

"You're Carmen's friend. With as much as she talks about you, you are not a stranger."

I sip on my iced tea. "How long are you in London?"

"Ten days. This is our first day."

I nod. "Same here."

"Maybe we can. . .Maybe we can exchange numbers in case you want to do this again some time."

"Sure," I say, writing my cell phone number down on a napkin and sliding it across the table. "I'd like that."

"Really?"

"At the very least, Carmen will be happy we met up."

Paul checks his watch. "I need to meet my group. Thanks for treating with drinks, Lena." He tears off the bottom half of the napkin I used to write my number in order to write his down for me. He stands, sunglasses back on as he prepares to melt into the growing street crowd. "See you around?"

"See you around," I repeat, smiling as he becomes one with the crowd.


	5. Chapter 5

PART V

The next day, I stake out Kostos's school, sitting across from the main entrance on a low wall and sketching whatever strikes my fancy – a tree, a squirrel, a couple walking by or calling to each other across the park. I had spent the night before studying all my maps and bus schedules to come up with a plan of action. If I actually saw him, I don't know what I'll do. I hope I'm brave enough to say something. That's the point. To say "I lied last year. I didn't have a boyfriend. I miss you. I want our some day to be now." is my reason for being.

I see him. Oh my gosh, I see him. He's with a group of guys coming down the stairs, laughing at something one of them said.

"Kostos?" I test my voice to see if it's willing to work. "Kostos!" I call louder.

He looks at me, our eyes meet, and, suddenly, all my hoped for courage flies right away and I take off running through the nearby park. Please don't let him follow! Please don't let him follow!

I find an empty bench, collapsing in a heap of tears. Great! My big opportunity and I blow it. I blow it!

"Lena?"

I look up, expecting someone from my school group and dreading it possibly being Kostos, but it was Paul. Again. "Paul," I say, swiping a hand under my eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Same thing as you," he says, kneeling down in front of me. "Well, without the tears. What happened?"

"Nothing happened," I say. "Nothing happened because I'm a big, fat coward."

"What did you want to happen?" he rephrases the question.

"My ex goes to school there," I say, motioning in the direction of Kostos's Business School. "I wanted to see if there's still something there, or put it all to rest for good, but I. . .I couldn't do it. I'm a coward. A horrible coward."

"I'm sure that's not true," he says. "Maybe it's too soon. Maybe you need to give yourself more time."

"More time to psych myself out?" I ask. "I thought 'it's now or never.' Looks like it's never."

Paul stand in order to sit next to me on the bench. If we were better acquainted, he'd probably put his arm around me but we're not so he doesn't.

"I think you're brave," he says. "It takes a lot of courage to reach out to someone like you planned to do."

"How much courage does it take to run away in tears?"

"You'll talk to him," Paul predicts. "If not today, some time before you go home. That's why you're really here, isn't it?"

I nod. "Stupid, huh?"

"No. Just honest."

I wipe under my eyes again, just in case. "Paul? Will you have dinner with me tonight?"

He nods. "I'd like that."

I stand, collecting my art stuff and not giving myself time to think why I asked him out in the first place. "Call me later and we'll work out details, okay?"

"Okay," he agrees. "See you then, Lena."

"See you," I say, attempting a smile before heading back to the hotel alone.


	6. Chapter 6

PART VI

I wish I had my art supplies. I feel naked without them and unsure what to do with my hands while waiting for Paul at the outside cafe we had agreed upon. I toy with the napkin holder, remembering the ever present pencil stub in my purse. I fish it out in order to doodle on any available surface. I let my hand create what it will – not letting my mind interfere with the process. A series of vines and flowers decorate the napkin border and I scrawl in the center _Remember to let him into your heart, then you can start to make it better._ Song lyrics. My hands alway make interesting choices, though I allow my mind to interfere too often. Perhaps it spoils the creative process. I should learn to let go more.

"Sorry I'm late," Paul says, sliding into the chair across from me. "I read the bus schedule wrong."

"That's okay. I haven't been waiting long."

"What sounds good?" he asks, scanning a menu for inspiration.

"I'll probably just go with a salad," I say. "Not that I'm worried about how I look eating in front of you or anything, but I'm trying to eat healthier."

"Do you live on your own when you're at school?" he asks.

I nod. "In the dorms but I have a single so it's nice. Small. Only room for a hot plate so you can imagine how much it limits my menu choices. You?"

"A double," Paul says. "My roommate is cool, though. I know him from soccer. I had a quad my first year. That was really rough."

"I believe those are the most words I've heard come out of your mouth at one time," I observe, propping my chin up on both fists. "I'm impressed. Carmen would probably hug you if she were here."

He blushes, keeping his eyes on the menu. "Um, sometimes I just have to feel comfortable around someone before my mouth starts working overtime. I don't like crowds or strangers--"

"Or crowds of strangers," I joke.

Paul blushes all the more. "Um, Carmen emails so I know a lot about you. I guess that's why you don't feel like a stranger to me."

"Well, I'm glad you think that way because I'm not the greatest at keeping a conversation going so if you were nervous that would make it all the more difficult." I take a sip of the water the waitress sets in front of us. Paul motions at me when she asks if we are ready to order.

"Ladies first."

"Thank you."

I order a Grilled Chicken Caesar Salad and, Paul must be taking my lead in the healthy living department, because he orders the exact same. When I quirk an eyebrow his direction after the waitress leaves, he just shrugs.

"I like how the salad dressing tastes."

"I suppose there are worse reasons to order something."

We watch each other in silence but it's not uncomfortable like one would think. Sometimes people don't need to speak in order to 'get' someone and I'm glad Paul and I are sensible enough to know we can sit not saying a word and still feel as if the night is going well. No lame small talk or awkward pauses, but just a quiet, peaceful appreciation for the other's silent strength.

I smile, toying with the napkin I doodled on earlier. "Carmen doesn't talk too much about you so catch me up on things. All I know really is that your mom married her dad and you have a younger sister."

"Krista," he says. "Um, I already told you I study history. I think I'll probably end up teaching, though it would be fun to write articles or historical books or something. My concentration is British history so that is why I'm here. You?"

"Rhode Island School of Art and Design. I have no idea what I plan to do with my degree. Maybe I can do cover art for your books." Paul smiles at the idea. "Like you, I'll probably end up teaching but I'd love to open a little gallery somewhere. Nothing special. Just a place for artists to gather and appreciate and hopefully buy each other's work. Like a meeting place more than a shop."

"Sounds nice."

I shrug. "Just a pipe dream, really. I doubt it will ever come true."

"Of course it will if you make it," Paul says, eyes and face growing very serious and intense. "You can't give up dreams, Lena. Then you'll always be left to wonder 'what if?'"

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I ask suddenly, not knowing I even cared. "Stop me if it's too personal. You don't have to answer."

He sips his water while he collects his thoughts. "No. It's not too personal. I don't mind. Your answer is no – not since high school. It's easier for me to focus on school, I think, than the social scene. You?"

"I had a bit of a fling last year but that's all it turned out being. Very short term. I sometimes hear from him, but it's more 'hey, how you doing?' instead of 'I miss you so much I can't breath from wanting you.'" I laugh, suddenly finding it liberating that I, Lena Kaligaris, could say out loud that I had a romantic fling. "My only other boyfriend is the one who lives here that I made a fool of myself over today. He's been a little harder to forget."

"What's so special about him?" Paul asks.

I find that I have to think really hard to come up with any type of answer. "He has a sensitive soul. And nice eyes."

"A lot of people have nice eyes," Paul points out.

"You do," I say, meaning to just agree with him that 'yes, other people besides Kostos have nice eyes' but realize after the words are out of my mouth how they must sound to him. "Paul. I'm sorry. That's just an observation. Not anything more."

He shovels a bunch of salad into his mouth, avoiding an answer. "You have nice eyes too," he finally says. "And hair."

"Thank you," I say before falling back on my old standby for whenever anyone decides to compliment my physical appearance. "I'm Greek."


	7. Chapter 7

PART VII

I decide to try again the next day. Haunting Kostos's school. This time, I tell myself, I will not run away. It is better to face him, speak the truth, and then run away if necessary. I'm a horrible coward. Things always play out better in my mind then in actuality. In my mind, anything is possible. Perhaps that is why I live in it so frequently. I see him.

"Kostos!" I call, waving an arm over my head this time to get his attention.

He moves towards me as if in slow motion and I want to run, I really do, but, instead, I curl my toes up really tight and tell myself those are my roots. I can't move if I have roots.

"Lena," Kostos says, not even acting surprised. "I thought it was you yesterday. Why did you run?"

"I. . .I was going to miss the meet up with my school group," I lie surprisingly well, brushing my bangs away from my face. "I didn't realize how late it was getting and needed to go in a hurry."

"Ah. I thought you might be afraid to see me."

"Afraid to see you? Don't be ridiculous."

He smiles, brushing his own dark hair out of his eyes. My fingers itch to sketch him. "Care to join me? I was headed home for a quick lunch before my afternoon classes. Just sandwiches. I could make you one too."

"Sounds nice," I say, picking up my ever present over sized sketch book and following as he leads the way. I should have asked about his roommates. I know he has two of them.

"Are your roommates at home?" I finally ask, waiting as he digs out his key to unlock the door of #3B in the cute little brick building only a ten minute walk from campus.

Kostos glances over his shoulder as he pushes the door open, standing aside so I can go inside first. "No. Their classes run long today."

"Oh. So we're alone then."

"What are you doing in London?" he asks, motioning at the couch in a 'make yourself at home' gesture before turning the stereo on softly and heading into the kitchen to make lunch. "I haven't told you yet, Lena, but it is good to see you."

"We're on a school trip," I answer. "Ten days. It's really exciting. The only place I've ever been besides home is Greece."

I shouldn't have brought up Greece. It makes us both remember.

"And your boyfriend?"

"What boyfriend?" I ask before remembering that I had once told him Leo and I were together in my horrible It's-Too-Late-For-Us speech of last year. "Oh. Um. We're not together."

Kostos sits down next to me on the couch, balancing two paper platers, one in each hand. He hands me the one in his left hand. Turkey and cheese on rye.

"Thank you. It looks very good."

"I am not attached either," he says, sounding like one of those poorly dubbed foreign movies Tibby likes to torture us with. "Did you come here hoping to find that out?"

"I just came to see how you are," I lie. "It doesn't matter to me if you're single or not."

"It matters to me if you are," Kostos says, putting down his sandwich and taking my right hand in both of his. He strokes up and down, following the lines of the bones of my hand to my knuckles. He whispers something in Greek that I don't understand, before sucking on the tips of each of my fingers. I nearly choke on the bite of turkey sandwich in my mouth.

"Kostos!"

"Lena. Beautiful Lena," he says, voice raspy and accent twice as thick with emotion. "Have you come back to me?"

_How can I even think when he's doing that to my fingers? _

An involuntary gasp hisses through my teeth which Kostos seems to take as a 'yes.' He gives me a little push and I fall back against the arm of the couch. I should protest. I should stop him. But it feels so _good_ having his lips on mine again, breath warm and soft and tongue oh so competent, hands exploring where they've been denied access for far too long. This is what I remembered when I would wake up from dreams with my hair and pillow wet from crying for missing him. This is what my soul craved and body ached for. This is what was mine once again.

"Oh, Kostos," I breath when he takes his mouth away from mine to sow kisses across my cheeks, forehead, and nose. "I've missed this. I've missed you so much."

"Come with me, my Lena. No protests," he whispers into my ear before nipping and tugging on it with his teeth. I have to bite my bottom lip to stop from moaning, little pin pricks of light dancing in front of my eyes. Kostos eases off me in order to stand, holding out both hands to me. I take them without question, without thought, allowing myself to be led into his bedroom. My lips feel bruised from kisses and my hair must be a love-tangled mess but I don't care. I don't care.

"Lena. Do you know how many times I've dreamed this? How many times I've wished it?" Kostos asks, voice thick, as he shuts and locks his bedroom door. I stand mutely at the foot of his bed, not trusting myself to speak. "Don't deny me. Don't deny us."

"I. . .I won't," I whisper, holding out my arms to him. My Kostos. My sweet prince.

We're on the bed. Wrestling to get shoes off as we wrestle with buttons and zippers. I'm wearing a sun dress. Kostos pushes it to my waist before it gets caught on the part where the back-zipper makes it cinch real tight around my stomach and breasts.

"Let me look at you, Lena," he pleads. "I need to."

I sit up, lowering the zipper and wriggling out of my dress, left only in my bra and panties. They are old, comfortable cotton. I should have thought to wear something silky that matched. Kostos doesn't seem to care. He has his shirt and pants off by this time, kneeling on the bed in his boxers.

"My Lena. . . ."

He runs his magic fingers up and down my arms, stomach, and thighs till I'm shivering and practically begging him to touch me in the secret place that even I don't like to think about.

"Kostos," I pant. "Please, Kostos. . . ."

He knows what I want.

"Let me see you. All of you."

He removes my bra and slowly lowers my panties. The wait is agony. Finally, the sweet moment arrives and first his fingers, then his tongue, stroke the secret core of my being. I have never felt anything so remarkable in my entire life. Kostos clutches my hips to keep me steady as the wave of pleasure I had only read about engulfs me. I'm left panting and weak and near tears at the beauty of the moment. Kostos raises himself above me, using that wonderful, wonderful tongue of his on my breasts.

"Please," I beg, taking his face in both my hands and lifting to force him to look at me. "Please, Kostos."

"Are you sure?" he asks, giving me time to change my mind.

I nod, not feeling words were necessary.

Kostos rocks back on his heels to shimmy out of his boxers. He reaches under his bed and produces a single condom. He grins sheepishly. "My roommate's. He leaves them around my room just in case I decide to stop acting like a monk."

I don't know if I want to laugh or cry or bless the nameless roommate. I sit up, helping Kostos open the wrapper and covering his hands with mine as he guides the condom on. I stroke him curiously, reveling in the feel of the blood pulsing just below the surface. Kostos stops my exploration with a deep kiss, pushing my shoulders lightly till I fall back onto the bed.

Right before he enters me, he whispers something in Greek. I know what it means this time. I've heard my parents say it to each other. _S'ayapo. I love you._

Afterwards, when I'm lying in Kostos' arms, an image of Paul appears in my mind and I wonder if he would be disappointed in me if he knew.


	8. Chapter 8

PART VIII

"Wow, who's this total hottie?" Sally asks, holding up my sketchpad to the picture of Kostos as we sit on opposite beds after lights out, flipping through each other's portfolios.

"Kostos," I say. "Our grandparents know each other on Greece. That's where I met him. He lives here now."

"A total Greek God," she proclaims, turning more pages. "Oh, wow. How come you know so many cute boys? It's not fair."

I look up to see she's come to my memory portrait of Paul. "Oh. That's just one of my best friend's stepbrother. Paul."

"Zeus and Apollo," Sally says, gesturing at the park scene I had her portfolio open to. "You get hot guys and I get squirrel poop. It's really not fair."

"Well, I'm meeting Zeus tomorrow for lunch if you want to come," I offer. "Maybe I can get him to bring one of his roommates."

Sally's whole face brightens at the prospect. "Do you really think so?"

"Sure. I'll call him right now."

Sally waits breathlessly as I dial Kostos's number from the hotel phone. Though he is not happy that we won't be alone, he does agree. I give Sally a thumbs up as I hang up and she flops back onto her bed with an excited giggle.

"You're the best, Lena!"

I laugh too, feeling more alive then I have in the last days, weeks, months or even years. "We better shut the lights off before Mr. B makes his second rounds."

She nods, portfolios going back to their rightful owners, as we scramble under the covers and reach for the twin bedside lamps.

"Good night," I say, feeling very generous and kind to everyone alive at the moment. "I'll give you directions to the cafe before we head out in the morning."

"Cool," she says over a yawn. "Thanks again. Good night."

------------

"Lena," Kostos says, standing and taking my hands as I arrive at the table outside the cafe. He kisses both my cheeks like we're back in Greece before pulling out my chair for me and taking his own seat across from me. He motions at the red-haired guy next to him. "This is Klaus."

"Nice to meet you," I say, holding out my hand. "Oh, here's Sally!" I add as she appears. "Sally, this is Kostos and his roommate Klaus."

"Great to meet you both," she says, shaking hands all around before sitting down in the vacant chair next to me. "This is really cool that we could all meet up like this."

Kostos just nods and smiles and I can tell he's hating the fact that we're not alone. Well, the real world isn't all beds and whispered promises in Greek. We can't live in a dream. It's not practical. Or realistic.

Sally keeps up a steady stream of conversation which I'm grateful for. Klaus has a thick accent, probably German, but he nods and chatters right along with her. At least they are hitting it off. Kostos's mood remains dark for the remainder of the meal and, once we divvy up the cheek four ways and collect our things, he motions for me to follow him.

"Lena? May we walk for a moment alone?"

"Um, sure," I say, glancing at Sally. "Will you be okay if I go?"

"Sure, sure," she chirps, giving me a huge grin and thumbs up. "Klaus will see me back to the bus stop, won't you, Klaus?"

"My pleasure," he agrees, following as she heads off in that direction.

"Why did you not come alone?" Kostos asks without preamble as we wind our way through the park back toward his school.

"You did not _ask_ for me to be alone," I counter.

"You should have known."

"Despite what you may think, Kostos, I'm not in tune to your thoughts and emotions. When I asked about bringing Sally, you should have just said no."

"I was afraid you may not have wanted to meet with me again if I said no," he says. "I want to make you happy, Lena."

"Well, you've done a very poor job of that in the past," I say, surprised at the harshness in my voice. "What have you ever done, Kostos, besides make me _un_happy?"

Kostos sucks in his breath, air hissing through his teeth. "Such harsh words, Lena. Why do you say them?"

"Because they need to be said," I say. "For too long, Kostos, you have been this unattainable dream to me. Something I wanted but could never have. It made the dream sweeter." I shake my head, ponytail bobbing back and forth, I lower my face to hide sudden tears. "I can't live on dreams, Kostos."

"It's not a dream any longer," he insists, dragging me over to a bench by my arm and forcing me to sit. "It's not. What we shared yesterday--"

"Was a moment," I say. "Just a moment, Kostos. You can't build a life on moments."

"Yes, you can," he says. "Lena, why are you saying this? I don't understand."

"I think I finally do," I say. "I think I finally understand after all this time." I laugh ruefully, lifting my head to look at the sky through the tree leaves, wiping under my eyes. "I finally do. I do not regret what we shared yesterday, Kostos, but it is just another part of the dream. It's not reality. I need to live in reality. If anything, yesterday has allowed me to let you go." I stand. "I can finally let you go."


	9. Chapter 9

PART IX

For a week, I am content to draw nature scenes and buildings. I feel freer somehow. Lighter. Like a weight has finally been lifted from my heart. I wonder if this is what I've been missing all these years. This feeling of peace and contentment. When Sally asks if I want to go to Stonehenge on our last day in London, I take her up on the offer.

"I'm so glad you decided to come with," Sally says as we navigate the train car, trying to find seats. "I'm hopeless with public transportation."

"I don't mind," I say. "I want to see it too."

Our over sized sketch pads are clunky, making it difficult to navigate up the aisle. I seem to be apologizing every two seconds for bumping into someone.

"Lena! Hey, Lena, over here!"

I look up at the sound of my name, wondering if there were two Lenas on this train. There wasn't. Just me. The person doing the hollering is Paul.

"We need to really stop meeting like this," I joke, giving him a relieved smile when I notice two empty seats across him. "May we sit down?"

"Of course. They're yours," Paul says, motioning at the seats.

Sally and I gratefully accept, trying to tuck our sketch pads close to our legs so there's still room for Paul and the boy next to him to stretch out their long legs if they want to.

"This is Sally," I say by way of introductions. "Sally, my friend Paul."

"Hey, how are you?" they say almost simultaneously before laughing over it. Paul glances to his right at the other boy. "This is my roommate James. James, Lena and Sally."

"She's as smoking hot as you claim, dude," James says, giving me a lop-sided grin. "Really, he made you out to be like some Greek Goddess and, man, is he right."

"I dubbed him Apollo," Sally chimes in. "You should see the portrait Lena drew."

"I. . .I didn't sit for any portraits," Paul says.

"Memory portrait," I say, attempting a smile to cover up my embarrassment. "I hope you don't mind."

"Can I. . .Can I see it?"

"Sure," I say, balancing my sketch pad awkwardly on my knees while I flip the pages looking for the one of Paul. "There." I turn it around to face them and James lets out a low whistle.

"Wow. You're good."

"Thank you."

"Why did you. . .Why did you draw me?" Paul asks, seeming a little confused or maybe embarrassed that he was now immortalized in charcoal and colored pencil.

"I don't know," I admit, closing my sketch pad and tucking it back on the floor near my legs. "You have nice features. They just beg to be drawn."

"Where are you headed?" Sally asks brightly to ease the growing awkward tension simmering between Paul and I.

"Stonehenge," James answers. "Our last day here so wanted to see it."

"Us too!" Sally says. "One last trip before we fly home tomorrow."

"What time's your flight?" James asks.

"9:30. Delta to JFK."

"Flight 826?"

Sally giggled, eyes bright. "Hey, isn't that something?" She nudges me in the ribs with her elbow. "Lena, we're on the same flight tomorrow!"

"Yeah," I agree duly, eyes locked on Paul's downcast face. "Isn't that something."

--------

We seem to naturally break off into groups once we reach Stonehenge. Paul and I. James and Sally. We go right. They go left.

"So, um, how did things go with that ex of yours?" Paul asks, stopping with me when I want to sketch one of the fallen monoliths. "Did you see him?"

"Yes," I say, half distracted.

"How'd it go?"

I finish my sketch up quickly. Not really my best work but it's just for reference. Maybe I can turn it into something else later on. I look up at Paul, brushing my bangs out of my eyes. "It went good and bad."

"How so?" he asks, face scrunching up as he tries to work out the meaning of my words.

"Well, _good_ that I could finally put a lot of feelings to rest and _bad_ because I think I broke his heart twice in as many years." I sigh. "It's funny, but what I came to London looking for, is not what I found. I thought Kostos and I would be one of those 'defeat all the odds' type of couples but, it turns out, my dreams and reality didn't mesh. We're living two completely different lives and I. . .I never realized before now how unhealthy it was for me to be living in a fantasy. I pride myself on being so practical and yet, in the one aspect of my life where it mattered the most, I was _im_practical. I see that now. I'm glad I do."

"I'm glad you do too," Paul says, kicking a loose pebble with his toe as we walk. "Lena? Did I ever tell you what I thought when I first saw you? When, um, Carmen introduced us?"

I shake my head. "No. I doubt I made that much of an impression."

"Oh, but you did!" he insists. "I haven't been able to stop thinking of you since."

I laugh. "Don't lie."

"I'm serious," Paul says. He grasps me by the elbows and turns me to face him so I can see just how serious he is. "I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen and wondered why you seemed so sad. You had a sadness about you, Lena. You don't have that now."

"Why did you think I was beautiful?"

"Because you are."

I shake my head. "I don't want to be anyone's Greek Goddess."

"You're not," he says. "I know you're a normal girl. I wouldn't dare put you on a pedestal."

He wants to kiss me. I can tell. I feel a tingling in my lips as if Paul is focusing all his attention on that one spot. I make the decision easier for him, tip-toeing and pressing my closed mouth against his.

"Why'd. . .Why'd you do that?" Paul asks in a daze.

"Because you wanted to," I say, feeling brave and bold – like Bee instead of me. "I thought I'd help you out a bit."

"I think I can handle it from here," Paul says, sliding his hands from my elbows to my waist. He just stares at me for a moment, drinking the sight in, before lowering his mouth to mine.

_Let him into your heart, then you can start to make it better, better, better, better._


	10. Chapter 10

PART X

"Sally, will you switch seats with Paul, please?" I ask as my Art group and his History group wait together near the gate to board the plane home. Paul has his arm slung across my shoulders like he's done it for years.

"Sure, sure, no problem," she says, grinning at us. "Maybe I can get some sleep since you kept me up half the night with your whispery phone call." Paul and I both blush which makes Sally laugh. "Gosh, if there are two people who deserve each other more than you two, I don't know where they're at."

She wanders off to find James and I lift my gaze to Paul's. "So, um, did you get a hold of your mom and Carmen? What did they say?"

"Carmen said she'd make the whole thing sound like her idea and my mom says it's cool if I spend the rest of the summer in Virginia."

I nod, satisfied. "I'm glad."

My phone beeps, letting me know I have a text message. It's from Carmen.

_LENNY!!! U N P? 411 PLS. OMG. C_

_"_What does it say?" Paul asks, trying to read the screen.

"It's Carmen," I say, slipping the phone back into my pocket. "She wants details."

"You can call her if you want," he offers. "I should make sure it's okay with James if I switch seats on the flight back."

"Okay," I say, blowing a kiss at his retreating back before fishing out my phone and dialing Carmen's number. "Hey, Carma, it's me. I have so much to tell you. . . ."


End file.
